At the Archive, the Cappi & Diabelli reprint of Op. 1111 sought, unfortunately in vain. Perhaps, however, I shall find another occasion to study the document. Typically Viennese: in the refurbishment of the interior rooms, the Archive has been relocated from the first floor and set up in the second. But hardly have the thousands of volumes been housed in a pinch, suddenly a new idea surfaces, and an attractive one at that: to arrange within the Archive a Brahms room, with the result that it must be newly arranged and set up. If, as I suspect, merely a sense of reverence is at work in the bosom of the Society of the Friends of Music, since the idea of a Brahms room was suggested, then I have an even greater joy in it on practical grounds; for it may be possible to arrange in this very room the master's library in exactly the way it was when it was in his possession, so that, for example, his copies of Handel and other notes, which regrettably have become circulating copies and have unfortunately become worn by passing through many hands, might finally be able to be used instead of merely abused.

*

In the evening, at Mendl's. The professor for internal medicine, Pineles, and Mrs. Deutsch are present. The new guest makes a modest impression, insofar as the occupation of a professor permits any sort of impression. On the whole, a cautious and embracing man, relaxed in every change of topic of conversation. The general discussion became more unified when it turned towards art, especially towards music. Nonetheless {576} the intensity of the explanations were, for me personally, often inhibited because the above-named medic expressed far too tenuous views about art and artists: an intensity that spurred him on but compelled me to show special care (for his modesty). Things become more difficult since I did not wish to let our host know, by any change in the conversation, that I took exception in any way to his behavior in the matter concerning Klumak, or that I held a grudge against him.2

Of the remarks made by the professor, the following may be set down here: predilection for poetry is an illness! In such a statement, which is known to be in general favor, there is more than merely the philistine's arrogance towards the poet. For if it were merely a question of this alone, then one could easily have assuaged the views of the sober gentleman which, since the creation of the world, have not hindered poets from fulfilling their life's work, and moreover to the benefit of the philistines. Coming from the mouth of the medical man, however, such a statement gains a higher, almost scientific, meaning; at least it was spoken with such assuredness. And thus, it is regrettable that one must first have to explain to a person who has been through a scientific schooling that lyricism signifies more a raised than a lowered degree of health. After all, a child who learns to read and acquires the first signs of intellectual differentiation compared to animals and illiterates should not already be regarded as ill, even if he does not leave this without harmful physical troubles, especially in the first stages [of intellectual development]. And when in the course of time the human being is in a position to differentiate still further, then even this ability to greater differentiation is evidence of better health than the illiteracy of a peasant, who is indeed no less susceptible to illness than the differentiated person – apart from the fact that only differentiation, itself a sign of increased wellbeing, otherwise offers the greatest promise for improved hygiene – an advantage with which the animal (or the illiterate) can surely not be credited. And what contradiction, moreover, is contained by all the {577} ideas about the supposedly ill character of spiritual conditions if one considers that the same knowledge that gives rises to those ideas has given rise also to the species homo sapiens, that is, a type of living thing upon whom nature has by its own admission conferred from the outset the faculty of differentiation. How simple would be this very consequence of the assumption that nature intended at the outset to give the human being, the homo sapiens, a higher health not only of body but also – if indeed at all – of the mind. In one way, the bear is healthy from a bear-like point of view; in another way, however, so is the differentiated person. Thus it was high time to regard the norm of human health not as something akin to that of an animal but actually that of a human being and, above all, the highest form of human being, the genius, whereby one must of course grant that even a genius, as a living being, is as susceptible to illness as much as any other living being. –

For the sake of amusement, I sought in the conversation to explain Professor Möbius as a feeble-minded scientist, because he proceeded from an idée fixe, that precisely the geniuses appear to be sick, and indeed sick in a different way from other people. It would have been logical now for the medical man to have been obliged at least to characterize his colleague, on account of greater differentiation and departure from the norm, as just as sick as, for example, a Goethe. Far from it! The colleague must be regarded as healthy; and so it remained that only the genius described by the colleague as sick was truly sick. The chasm between a creative and a non-creative being is so great that even science would rather commit contradictions than be able to understand how that very additional amount of differentiation contained by a genius represents that great fund of health which has elevated, blessed and thus improved the health not only of its personal bearer but also, far beyond him, to all other people for centuries and millenia. –

If in this way the understanding of creative minds has insurmountable difficulties in general, then the difficulty is, if anything, even more insurmountable when it comes specifically to the understanding of a musical genius; {578} for in the art of music, creativity is in a certain sense more God-like than in any other art, something which is linked to the much more difficult acquisition of the materials of music. –

Brahms in particular was characterized by the medical man as "too healthy," but from his point of view as being a lesser artist than the others who appear to him to be sick. But precisely all these muddled contemplations have prompted me to make once again the effort to explain and determine in company the basic conditions for a general relationship to music. And thus, I explained that the greatest hindrance to a good relationship was human vanity, which certainly understands that it is somehow of value to have some sort of relationship to art, but to seek to gain this, as far as possible, by the paths that require the least effort. But what would be less effortless than to say that one just has the impression; and what would be simpler to say than one feels it as a personal attack, if another person does not accept the impression as sufficient, not as a precondition, and not as a declaration. Human vanity cannot overcome the tautology of this impression, and thus it blocks the path to art at the very outset. –

In a certain sense our host supported this view by presenting an analogous relationship even in the world of commerce. There too it is of little help, he said, to make the businessman aware of the prospects of an improved financial position; for so long as he has a relatively good one, he will always prefer the merely good one, achieved with little effort, over a better one that requires more effort. And humanity likewise prefers to maintain its willingness for art and its enjoyment of art without effort than to take even greater pleasure with some more effort. –

As my standpoint, on the one hand, became clearer in the course of the discussion – that the distance between humanity and art is vast, and perhaps never bridgeable – it meant much to me to underscore the tragedy of the situation quite specially by explaining my demand as the most primitive in the world; I said that it was finally time for {579} humanity to learn to read music, in order to develop for the field of music that which for other relationships – the sense of sight, smell and touch – had long since been developed. To learn to read music I called the ability to make the very first differentiation of tones as individual things; and for purposes of illustration I invoked an extreme analogy by asking whether one would endorse someone's idea if, say, in a party in which seven people were present he made out that only three or four were visible on the grounds that he had, say, counted their feet but had conflated the foot of one person with that of another and thus arrived at the strangest calculations.3 The extremity of the example had something convincing about it; however, I feared that the distance to art among those present was not diminished or, put in other words: my primitive demand was still so little recognized that it was, on the contrary, regarded as too lofty.

The debate, however, again confirmed the correctness of my instincts. As soon as I fix my accusations in writing, I shall enjoy the invaluable advantage that everyone who reads it will be affected by it as an individual; whereas, in an oral debate, everyone will feel personally hurt. That lies simply in the physical presence of the superior person in the material concerned, to whom will be begrudged his feeling of superiority!

At the Archive, the Cappi & Diabelli reprint of Op. 1111 sought, unfortunately in vain. Perhaps, however, I shall find another occasion to study the document. Typically Viennese: in the refurbishment of the interior rooms, the Archive has been relocated from the first floor and set up in the second. But hardly have the thousands of volumes been housed in a pinch, suddenly a new idea surfaces, and an attractive one at that: to arrange within the Archive a Brahms room, with the result that it must be newly arranged and set up. If, as I suspect, merely a sense of reverence is at work in the bosom of the Society of the Friends of Music, since the idea of a Brahms room was suggested, then I have an even greater joy in it on practical grounds; for it may be possible to arrange in this very room the master's library in exactly the way it was when it was in his possession, so that, for example, his copies of Handel and other notes, which regrettably have become circulating copies and have unfortunately become worn by passing through many hands, might finally be able to be used instead of merely abused.

*

In the evening, at Mendl's. The professor for internal medicine, Pineles, and Mrs. Deutsch are present. The new guest makes a modest impression, insofar as the occupation of a professor permits any sort of impression. On the whole, a cautious and embracing man, relaxed in every change of topic of conversation. The general discussion became more unified when it turned towards art, especially towards music. Nonetheless {576} the intensity of the explanations were, for me personally, often inhibited because the above-named medic expressed far too tenuous views about art and artists: an intensity that spurred him on but compelled me to show special care (for his modesty). Things become more difficult since I did not wish to let our host know, by any change in the conversation, that I took exception in any way to his behavior in the matter concerning Klumak, or that I held a grudge against him.2

Of the remarks made by the professor, the following may be set down here: predilection for poetry is an illness! In such a statement, which is known to be in general favor, there is more than merely the philistine's arrogance towards the poet. For if it were merely a question of this alone, then one could easily have assuaged the views of the sober gentleman which, since the creation of the world, have not hindered poets from fulfilling their life's work, and moreover to the benefit of the philistines. Coming from the mouth of the medical man, however, such a statement gains a higher, almost scientific, meaning; at least it was spoken with such assuredness. And thus, it is regrettable that one must first have to explain to a person who has been through a scientific schooling that lyricism signifies more a raised than a lowered degree of health. After all, a child who learns to read and acquires the first signs of intellectual differentiation compared to animals and illiterates should not already be regarded as ill, even if he does not leave this without harmful physical troubles, especially in the first stages [of intellectual development]. And when in the course of time the human being is in a position to differentiate still further, then even this ability to greater differentiation is evidence of better health than the illiteracy of a peasant, who is indeed no less susceptible to illness than the differentiated person – apart from the fact that only differentiation, itself a sign of increased wellbeing, otherwise offers the greatest promise for improved hygiene – an advantage with which the animal (or the illiterate) can surely not be credited. And what contradiction, moreover, is contained by all the {577} ideas about the supposedly ill character of spiritual conditions if one considers that the same knowledge that gives rises to those ideas has given rise also to the species homo sapiens, that is, a type of living thing upon whom nature has by its own admission conferred from the outset the faculty of differentiation. How simple would be this very consequence of the assumption that nature intended at the outset to give the human being, the homo sapiens, a higher health not only of body but also – if indeed at all – of the mind. In one way, the bear is healthy from a bear-like point of view; in another way, however, so is the differentiated person. Thus it was high time to regard the norm of human health not as something akin to that of an animal but actually that of a human being and, above all, the highest form of human being, the genius, whereby one must of course grant that even a genius, as a living being, is as susceptible to illness as much as any other living being. –

For the sake of amusement, I sought in the conversation to explain Professor Möbius as a feeble-minded scientist, because he proceeded from an idée fixe, that precisely the geniuses appear to be sick, and indeed sick in a different way from other people. It would have been logical now for the medical man to have been obliged at least to characterize his colleague, on account of greater differentiation and departure from the norm, as just as sick as, for example, a Goethe. Far from it! The colleague must be regarded as healthy; and so it remained that only the genius described by the colleague as sick was truly sick. The chasm between a creative and a non-creative being is so great that even science would rather commit contradictions than be able to understand how that very additional amount of differentiation contained by a genius represents that great fund of health which has elevated, blessed and thus improved the health not only of its personal bearer but also, far beyond him, to all other people for centuries and millenia. –

If in this way the understanding of creative minds has insurmountable difficulties in general, then the difficulty is, if anything, even more insurmountable when it comes specifically to the understanding of a musical genius; {578} for in the art of music, creativity is in a certain sense more God-like than in any other art, something which is linked to the much more difficult acquisition of the materials of music. –

Brahms in particular was characterized by the medical man as "too healthy," but from his point of view as being a lesser artist than the others who appear to him to be sick. But precisely all these muddled contemplations have prompted me to make once again the effort to explain and determine in company the basic conditions for a general relationship to music. And thus, I explained that the greatest hindrance to a good relationship was human vanity, which certainly understands that it is somehow of value to have some sort of relationship to art, but to seek to gain this, as far as possible, by the paths that require the least effort. But what would be less effortless than to say that one just has the impression; and what would be simpler to say than one feels it as a personal attack, if another person does not accept the impression as sufficient, not as a precondition, and not as a declaration. Human vanity cannot overcome the tautology of this impression, and thus it blocks the path to art at the very outset. –

In a certain sense our host supported this view by presenting an analogous relationship even in the world of commerce. There too it is of little help, he said, to make the businessman aware of the prospects of an improved financial position; for so long as he has a relatively good one, he will always prefer the merely good one, achieved with little effort, over a better one that requires more effort. And humanity likewise prefers to maintain its willingness for art and its enjoyment of art without effort than to take even greater pleasure with some more effort. –

As my standpoint, on the one hand, became clearer in the course of the discussion – that the distance between humanity and art is vast, and perhaps never bridgeable – it meant much to me to underscore the tragedy of the situation quite specially by explaining my demand as the most primitive in the world; I said that it was finally time for {579} humanity to learn to read music, in order to develop for the field of music that which for other relationships – the sense of sight, smell and touch – had long since been developed. To learn to read music I called the ability to make the very first differentiation of tones as individual things; and for purposes of illustration I invoked an extreme analogy by asking whether one would endorse someone's idea if, say, in a party in which seven people were present he made out that only three or four were visible on the grounds that he had, say, counted their feet but had conflated the foot of one person with that of another and thus arrived at the strangest calculations.3 The extremity of the example had something convincing about it; however, I feared that the distance to art among those present was not diminished or, put in other words: my primitive demand was still so little recognized that it was, on the contrary, regarded as too lofty.

The debate, however, again confirmed the correctness of my instincts. As soon as I fix my accusations in writing, I shall enjoy the invaluable advantage that everyone who reads it will be affected by it as an individual; whereas, in an oral debate, everyone will feel personally hurt. That lies simply in the physical presence of the superior person in the material concerned, to whom will be begrudged his feeling of superiority!

3 What Schenker may have had in mind was the possibility of seing the "inside" feet of two people standing close to each other as a single foot. If seven people were standing in a row, the left foot of one close beside the right foot of his neighbor, then someone with poor vision would be able to make out only eight distinct feet and would calculate that there were only four people present.